


Merlin and the Problematic Tavern

by applesaucecake



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Awesome Gwen (Merlin), Crack, Fluff, Gaius is a badass, Gay Panic, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Merlin is So Done (Merlin), Mild Language, Whump, merlin and his scarf, merlin gets into trouble (again), somewhat angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:47:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21899908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applesaucecake/pseuds/applesaucecake
Summary: It's not the first time that Gaius has sent Merlin out to collect herbs, and it should be a simple task. Except that it's not, and Merlin gets into trouble. So, naturally, Arthur goes out to find him.
Relationships: Gwen & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 331





	Merlin and the Problematic Tavern

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Orange_peel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_peel/gifts).



> This is for my good friend, orange_peel - happy (belated) birthday! Hope you enjoy this, and that you don't think it's terrible. in all seriousness, thanks for being such an awesome friend, I am eternally grateful.  
> (be warned, there's language and sarcasm in this one)

It wasn’t Merlin’s fault.

That much was true. It was only supposed to be a simple task. He could remember it now - Gaius telling him about the rare herbs, and how they didn’t grow anywhere in Camelot. He had already known what was coming, and stared at the ceiling in resignation.

“Let me guess. I’m going to have to find them, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” Gaius said. “But be warned, Merlin, this herb is extremely rare.”

That was all that Merlin heard. He could’ve sworn he heard Gaius mutter something about getting into less than ideal circumstances, which he took to mean another near death experience. It always did.

So, without giving Arthur so much as a goodbye, he left Camelot, taking with him a meagre bag of supplies, just in case something happened. On his way out, he stuck his head around the door, to see Gaius brewing a potion. Hopefully it was an antidote to knock out Arthur.

“Gaius, whatever you do-” Merlin began. “Don’t tell Arthur that I’m in the tavern. Not after what happened last time.”

“What happened last time?” The old man said, feigning ignorance.

“He forced me to imitate a bird to scare off the badgers on the last hunt.” Merlin’s said, face deadpan.

Gaius chuckled. “That doesn’t sound that bad, Merlin.”

“It would’ve been alright if my voice hadn’t broken!” He protested. “I ended up scaring away every single animal in the woods!”

The physician pursed his lips to keep from laughing. It was true that Merlin’s voice was a lot deeper, now, but it was unfortunate that it had to happen at that exact moment.

“Where shall I tell him you are, then?”

Merlin shrugged. “Anywhere but the tavern! Maybe the truth would do, this time!"

Sometimes he thought that Gaius existed only to get him into trouble with Arthur. He didn’t react well to Merlin ruining his hunt, especially in front of the guests, and had made him work even harder that week.

“Just make sure you don’t get into any trouble!”

**

Once Merlin was out of the boundaries of Camelot, he headed towards the white mountains. It was late in the year, and snow fell in thick sheets as he walked through open fields and moors. The pubs and taverns were filled with warm light and people, late into the night, and he often glanced wistfully at their fogged-up windows.

But he had to keep going, no matter how much he wanted a warm bed, or even a drink. He would feel better about leaving Camelot for more than a day, if it wasn’t for the fact that Arthur was king now. And the only person he had in way of advisor was Agravaine.

More like Agra-pain in the fucking arse.

It felt like every day that greasy-haired weasel remained alive, Merlin had his work cut out trying to stop him from killing Arthur and everyone else in Camelot. It was tiring, this destiny business.

On the third day, Merlin crossed through a small village on the outskirts of Camelot. There was a small tavern in the middle of the square, conspicuous enough to hide away in for just a little bit.

_I’ll just warm up there, and then move on_.

It was crowded inside, smelling of years of spilled ale and sweat, and filled wall to wall with old, fat men - people Merlin didn’t particularly want to interact with. But there was a warm fire going in the corner, and he managed to tuck himself away in a corner, where he couldn’t be seen. He ordered a pint of ale and rubbed his hands together, trying to shake off the cold from outside.

He wondered what Arthur was doing right at that moment. Probably complaining about his lack of a manservant...he smiled to himself as he thought of the king putting his tunic on wrong, once again, or not knowing where to find his comb. He was fortunate he wasn’t like his uncle.

As if any amount of grooming would fix that oily mop on Agravaine.

It was becoming more of a common occurrence, him thinking about Arthur and smiling. Sometimes he would stop himself, realising what he was doing, realising the thoughts he was having about his king.

Merlin drained the rest of his ale in one gulp.

Just as he was about to leave, gathering his scarf around his neck to shield him from the cold, he felt a hand grab his arm.

“What’s a young thing like you doing in a tavern?” He could smell the alcohol on the man’s breath before he even had to turn around.

Forcing a friendly expression onto his face, Merlin willed himself not to blast the man into oblivion.

“I’m sorry?”

The man leered at him. He had long, sandy- blond hair that hung around his face, and shining brown eyes. He would have been somewhat attractive if he hadn’t been so drunk.

“I said: what’s a young thing-”

“Leave him alone, Tom.”

The blond haired man turned around slowly, a horrible grin stretching his cracked lips. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t William Forrest.”

William Forrest. Merlin knew that name from somewhere. Gaius, he realised. Gaius had once mentioned a sorcerer who once sold wares for those who practiced magic, before he was forced to retire from his business. But this man wasn’t old, like Gaius, who had lived through the Great Purge as a boy. No, he didn’t look much older than Arthur.

“I’ve a mind to run you through right here, Forrest.” Tom snarled. “Give me a reason not to.”

“Just leave the boy alone. Can’t have you bothering young folk again, Tom. Being the handsome stranger really doesn’t suit you.”

Tom clenched his fists. “Oh yeah? Well, being the saviour doesn’t really suit you either, but I can easily change that.”

“Look, it’s fine. I was just on my way out.” Merlin interjected, feeling that the situation was going south. Everyone in the tavern had stopped talking, waiting with bated breath for the inevitable fight. They didn’t have to wait, Merlin decided. There wasn’t going to be one.

Just as Tom swung his fist at William, Merlin’s eyes flashed golden and the blond man tripped over his own feet, crashing to the floor. Laughter ensued, but it just made the man even angrier.

Before he could do anything, William swung his fist at Tom, causing him to crumple to the floor again. By this point, the owner had stormed out of the back room and was pulling him to his feet, and throwing him out into the snow.

People stopped staring, and went back to their drinks.

Merlin started out of the door, picking up his bag to sling over his shoulder. There had been enough attention drawn to him for one night.

“Merlin, isn’t it?” He froze in his tracks. _Shit_. But if he had to defeat one idiot, he would defeat another, by any means necessary.

“How do you know my name?”

William Forrest smiled. “Gaius told me about you. He’s an old friend.”

Merlin visibly relaxed, but still felt uneasy. He had been in situations like these one too many times, and more often than not he’d come out with a black eye, or worse. And there was something that lingered at the edge of the man’s smile that didn’t seem quite right.

“Come. Sit with me.” William led him to a secluded corner of the tavern, and ordered two more pints of ale. He helped Merlin with his bag, before looking him over.

“You been sleeping rough?”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “That obvious, is it?”

William chuckled. “You’re evading my question.”

“I’m doing a job for Gaius. How do you know him?”

The man’s eyes wandered away from Merlin’s, a mysterious look clouding them. _Fantastic. Another man trying to be cool and enigmatic. As if we don’t have enough of those._

“My father knew him, and traded with him during the Great Purge. They were close, once.”

“So you’re William Forrest’s son?”

“Yes. My parents weren’t too imaginative with names.” William smiled. The ale arrived, and Merlin instantly reached into his pockets, only to find them empty. William’s hand rested on his, slowing his motions.

“This one’s on me.”

Merlin nodded, saying nothing. William took a sip of his drink.

“So, what is this job Gaius has sent you to do?”

“I’m looking for some rare herbs in the white mountains.” Merlin told him.

“I see.” William paused, searching his face. “That was quite a trick, earlier.”

_Shit shit shit_ -

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He fixed him with a steady gaze. “I think that you do. I think you have magic, Merlin.”

_This isn’t ideal_.

Merlin swallowed. “I-”

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to expect any harm from me. Besides, I’m grateful-Tom looks a great deal better when he’s on the floor.”

Merlin smiled, taking a sip of ale. Maybe William wasn’t so bad, after all.

**

Arthur burst into Gaius’s quarters, frantically scanning the room. The old man snapped the book he was reading shut, and removed his spectacles. He could already tell what was on the king’s mind.

“What can I do for you, sire?”

“Merlin-” Arthur breathed out. He had clearly run to get there. “I need Merlin. Where is he?”

Gaius placed the book on the table. “He is not here.”

“I can see that!” Arthur exclaimed, striding across the room to Merlin’s bedroom. “He hasn’t shown up for duties in three days!”

Gaius sighed. “Merlin is-”

“-at the tavern.” Arthur glowered, slamming the door to Merlin’s room shut. It almost came off its hinges. “I might have known. When I find him, he’s going to wish he was never born.” 

"With all due respect, my lord-”

Arthur spun around. “ _Don’t_ try and vouch for him, Gaius. He and he alone is responsible for his actions.”

“I was going to say that I dispatched Merlin to find some rare herbs, on the outskirts of Camelot. He has not yet returned, though I expected him home a day ago.” Gaius said, slowly, to make sure the king heard.

Concern shadowed Arthur’s face. “Is he in danger?”

Gaius shook his head. “That, I do not know. But he can protect himself, I am sure. A day’s delay signifies nothing, so long as I have what I need.”

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. “I must send out a patrol.”

“Really, sire, I don’t think that’s necessary-”

“If Merlin is in danger, we need to know, so that we can find him and bring him home. I need hi-” Arthur faltered, looking uncomfortable. “I need my manservant. I can’t possibly polish all this armour myself.”

Without another word, the king left Gaius’s chambers.

The old man smiled to himself, humming as he opened his book and began to read.

**

It had been hours. Days. There was no way of knowing, really. Merlin only discovered something was seriously wrong when he realised that he couldn’t see properly.

Everything was slightly blurry, as if he was seeing the world through a rainy window, and his stomach was turning. William was still talking to him, but he wasn’t sure what he was saying - He tried to brace himself against the wall with his hand, but ended up almost falling out of his chair.

“No…” he breathed, feeling his mind go fuzzy. He hadn’t even had that much to drink - only three pints, including the one he had drunk alone, before he had met William. Something was very wrong with William.

He slurred his words, eyes rolling into his head. By now, the tavern had all but emptied, only a few people remaining - the sort that wore their hoods up inside, and hunched over their drinks with bruised fingers.

_This is not good_ …

**

The guards at Camelot had not been surprised when their king ordered a patrol to be sent out into the woods, and beyond the citadel. Neither was Queen Guinevere. She had spoken to Leon before the knights left, as he readied his horse.

“What takes you and Arthur outside of Camelot, Sir Leon?”

“Merlin, my lady.” He said, strapping his dagger to the harness.

_What a fucking surprise_. “Oh. Has he gone missing?”

“I believe so.” Leon shot her a look, and she understood his meaning. “The king is adamant that he is found.”

She exhaled. “I’m sure that he is. Ever since Arthur and Merlin began to study ‘poetry’, I had my suspicions.”

In the corner, Percival choked on his water.

“I’m afraid to say that I had my own thoughts long before that, my lady.” He called from the other side of the stables. “And the old physician, Gaius, knows more than he lets on.”

“I swear to god, if they don’t, y’know-” Gwaine made crude motions from the other side of the room that, thankfully, Gwen couldn’t see, “we’re going to be here for centuries.”

“I’ll bet you that they won’t.” Elyan said, rising from his chair, adding, “money.”

“Thank god, I thought you were going to bet frog’s eyes.” Gwaine said sarcastically.

Percival snorted.

“Please, let’s not talk of gambling in front of the Queen.” Leon said weakly, trying to hold what was left of a respectable group of knights together. But Gwen was already reaching into her pockets.

“I’ll bet you, Elyan, ten silvers,” she began, “that Arthur will still be wearing Merlin’s scarf when they return-”

She stopped short, and the whole room fell silent as Arthur walked in.

“That I’ll what?” Arthur said. Luckily, he appeared genuinely clueless, like he hadn’t heard what they were saying. It wasn't a rare occurrence. Gwen flashed him an easy smile.

“That you’ll win the upcoming melee, next week.”

“As if there was ever any doubt.” He said, smirking.

The knights collectively breathed a sigh of relief, and went back to preparing for the patrol. As far as they were concerned, it had been a successful save. What they didn’t know was that Arthur had heard exactly what they were saying.

And he wanted Gwen to win the bet.

**

They reached the outskirts of Camelot within a couple of hours, but Arthur feared by now Merlin would be hanging upside-down on a cliff face, having his eyes pecked out by birds. There was no telling what kind of scrape he’d gotten himself into.

Gaius had suggested they searched the outlying villages, but so far, they had been to three and there was still no sign of him. It was getting late, and the snow had begun to fall thickly again. The moon shone over their heads, casting shadows on their backs as Arthur rode through the last village. Leon and Percival came towards him, having searched the small houses in the village. They were empty handed.

“We have searched, my lord. The only place left is the local tavern.”

Arthur’s eyebrows rose. “If it transpires that he’s there, I’ll certainly kiss a toad.”

Gwaine sidled up to Percival, whispering, “no, he’ll kiss Merlin.”

“What was that?”

Gwaine blinked. “Uh…”

Arthur turned back around and begun to ride towards the tavern, and Leon shot Gwaine a warning look. 

**

It took an age for Merlin to stand, trying to steady his shaking knees, and hold himself up against the table. The whole room spun from one movement, the tavern shifting in and out of focus. What was happening? He hardly knew.

There was only one thought that permeated his drink-fogged mind. _I’ve been drugged_. Then there was a hand on his arm, dragging him away from the table. His feet slipped awkwardly under him, and he would have fallen if it wasn’t for the vice-like grip on his arm.

Head spinning, he looked at his captor.

Long, blond hair and brown eyes. _Arthur._ Except, it wasn’t Arthur. _Definitely not Arthur_ , Merlin decided. The face was familiar, and a lot less picturesque than Arthur’s.

He could barely feel his legs anymore, and stumbled after the figure that was practically dragging him along the floor. Merlin tried to utter a spell, but his eyes just glowed golden, and faded.

“Don’t try and use your magic on me, warlock.” The voice hissed. He could only just hear what he was saying, and tried, weakly to shake his arm away.

“N-no…need to get back...to Arth…” Merlin heaved a breath, and saying the words were suddenly too much of an effort. “Arth...ur…”

The man seized his shoulders. “Who?”

Merlin’s head was pounding, darkness threatening the edge of his vision. The man shook him violently, grabbing his face and pulling, and the world was moving too quickly, too much-

“Arthur.”

That was _his_ voice. And then the hold on his face vanished, and without the support he tumbled to the ground, head smacking against a chair- A figure spun in and out of Merlin’s periphery, standing above him.

“So, this time you actually were at the tavern.” Arthur muttered, secretly relieved to see him. But Merlin had fallen unconscious, and was unresponsive. If he had been awake, he would have said something about his drink being spiked, but he wasn’t, and of course, Arthur had to believe that he had just drank himself into the pits of oblivion for some unknown reason.

Very un-Merlin behaviour.

There was another man, who remained conscious, at the table Merlin had been dragged from.

“Who are you?” Arthur demanded. “What is your role in this?”

“Arthur, he’s hardly responsible for this, look at him- the man’s drooling.” Leon protested. “He’s clearly drunk.”

Regardless, Arthur seized him by the jacket, forcing him to look into his eyes. “What have you done to Merlin?”

The young man’s answering, lazy smile made him sick. Disgusted, Arthur pushed him backwards, causing him to topple over. The other man, the blond one, still lay groaning on the floor, clutching his arm from when Arthur had broken it with one single blow. It did more for his ego than what could be considered healthy.

Arthur managed to make out that the man had slipped something into Merlin and his young companion’s drinks, that would cause them to be unresponsive for the next few hours. There would be no real harm done, but nevertheless, Arthur ordered for his death sentence.

Naturally.

**

Between Merlin staring up at Arthur and constantly calling him pretty, and 'are you married yet?' amongst other things, the knights soon became confused as to whether he had actually been drugged or that their hidden affections for each other were starting to become...not so hidden. 

They rode back to Camelot with Merlin, who had yet to recover. On the second day of their journey, they stopped to rest in the forest, where they would be shielded from the snow by the thick branches of the trees. When the knights weren’t watching, Arthur bent over Merlin, and carefully unwound his scarf from his neck, trying not to wake him from his fitful slumber. It so happened that he _accidentally_ grazed his fingertips over his collarbone.

Arthur stuffed Merlin’s scarf in his pocket, smiling to himself as he propped him up.

Hopefully, he and Gwen would be ten silver pieces richer by the time they returned to Camelot.


End file.
